Herculean
by goldentorte
Summary: On a quest in the Midwest, Percy encounters an old man who calls himself Wednesday. Or, the second time Percy flies.


On a quest in the Midwest, Percy encounters an old man who calls himself Wednesday.

Or, the second time Percy flies.

* * *

"So, whaddya say, kid?"

Percy looks at the man in front of him, carefully measuring him. So far, it's not coming up good. This man calls himself Wednesday and claims to be an old family friend. They bump shoulders in a derelict out-of-the-way diner in Minnesota, where Percy stops to take a bite after battling the Nemean Lion and where Wednesday is waiting for a friend that never comes. He recognizes Percy as Poseidon's son and offers him an extra plane ticket to New York.

Percy is skeptical for two simple reasons: one, this Wednesday dude smells and looks like a well-dressed hobo, and second, air travel doesn't mix quite well with him, due to the whole rivalry between Zeus and Poseidon thing. He's not sure if Wednesday is just an agent of Zeus, trying to usher him into impending doom.

When he tells him as much, Wednesday throws his head back and laughs a deep, rumbling laugh.

"Kid, Mr. Lightning Bolt is not the only one with power over the sky," he says with a half-smile and half-sneer. "Me, I have powers too. Not as quite as powerful as he is, the lucky bastard, but still enough to transport you halfway the country.

"Look," he says exasperatedly when Percy still does not believe him. "Poseidon and I go way back. I owe him one. Since you're his kid, I just thought I repaid his debts by helping you. I know you're sent by that old hag and near your deadline, so." He shrugs indifferently, grabbing his coffee cup and emptying in one gulp.

Percy looks at him, mulling it over. He knows better than to accept travel proposals from strangers, but there's something about Wednesday that draws him in. Percy knows he's not exactly harmless, yet he knows he's not harmful too. He can feel that he's one of them and not—he's something else, something that does not belong in the sunlit pantheon at the 600th floor of the Empire State.

And he's right; there's only less than a day left for Percy to deliver the Nemean Lion's hide to Hera or face a horrible, smoky death. And considering that a land trip will take approximately eighteen hours…

"Alright," he says, and Wednesday's mouth curves into that half-sneer half-smile again. "I'll come with you."

The drive to Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport is a surprisingly short one, but it feels like an eternity due to the sheer awkwardness in the car. It doesn't help that there's a fresh lion pelt in the back, too heavy and too big to put in Percy's luggage. Wednesday tells him story about his own family, while Percy wracks his head for possible myths that may give a clue about his true identity.

He gives up after Wednesday talks about his hanged son whose sole weakness is mistletoe.

"I tell ya, kid, you're lucky your mom's a mortal," he tells him as they enter Minneapolis. "America, yeah it seems like a nice place and all, but it's a bad place for us." He frowns when a sleek Prius slips past his dented rented car ("how will you give it back?" Percy asks him. He shrugs. "I'll give it back when I give it back"), before swerving through packed traffic to get back at it. When they're comfortably ahead of the Prius, he continues, "People tend to forget easily, y'know? And we, we need memories to live. We need sacrifices."

Percy nods, bracing himself as Wednesday takes a sharp turn to go past a beat-up Chevy. How they manage to survive without getting smashed like salami in a sandwich, Percy does not know, but he suspects it has to do with Wednesday and his tricks. Just like how gods like Hermes devote a lot of their magic to teleportation, Wednesday, whoever he is, probably devotes a lot of his powers into surviving crazy driving.

* * *

When they get into the airport, Wednesday hands him a Delta boarding pass for economic class with the name Shadow Moon.

Percy frowns. "This isn't me."

Wednesday rolls his eyes. "Keen eyes, genius," he deadpans. Then, he flicks his finger and Shadow Moon changes into Percy Jackson.

Percy looks at it once and tucks it into his coat pocket.

* * *

The flight is terrible and does nothing to cure Percy's apprehension about air travel. In Wisconsin, they run into a storm cloud, bumping and jolting through turbulence all the way until Ohio. The stewardesses try to put on a brave face, but Percy knows they're terrified. There's an uneasy silence as each of the passengers realize this can be their last flight. Maybe, Zeus finds out about Percy's transgressions and is currently raining down his wrath.

He relays his fear to Wednesday, who gives a dismissal wave.

"There are bad storms and good storms," he explains. "This is a good storm. This is _my _storm, a trick so your uncle wouldn't find us. You're not the only one he hates, you know. Relax, will you kiddo?" he says when Percy makes a face. "This is my turf. Trust me; I know what I'm doing."

Percy may have believe him if he can't see the goddamned storm clouds through his windows.

* * *

Surprisingly, their landing in LaGuardia is very smooth. Percy half-expects to get smitten once he sets foot in the tarmac, but the bolt never comes. Everything goes so well that it's starting to bother him. Usually, when everything is unusually perfect there's a big monster lurking somewhere.

The monsters never come, though a friend leaves him instead. Wednesday meets him in baggage claim, telling him that he'll only accompany him so far.

"I have to meet lots of people in a short time, so I have to get going," he says, in an uncharacteristically serious tone. "I'll leave you here. You can take a cab to the Empire State, right?" he shoves a few dollars into Percy's hand. "The next time you meet your father, kid, tell him that old Walden has paid his debts fair and square, will ya?" He pats his shoulder.

Before Percy can say anything, he turns and disappears into the crowds.

* * *

If Hera is surprised that Percy can complete the quest on time, she doesn't show it. Instead, she puts on a sugary-sweet smile and congratulates him politely.

"But," she adds, with only the slightest hint of venom. "You must tell me how you did it. Such an accomplishment must have a great story behind it, yes?"

Percy's mouth curves into a half-sneer half-smile. "I got a little help from a friend, is all."


End file.
